I typically blog with an editor on my shoulder, my not-so-subtle subconscious coaxing me to tailor my words, my thoughts, put a sophisticated and insightful spin on things, but I'm going to make an unhindered attempt to capture some of my thoughts tonight. My how my thoughts have taken hold of every part of me this last week. There is too much back-story so I'll try to get to unfolding plot in my mind.
We returned last Tuesday from our annual trip away from our kids. Every year we face the same struggle to integrate back into our kids' lives and their loose summer schedule. I go from zero responsibilities to all responsibilities. It's overwhelming. I was gone roughly five days, only four of which I did not see my children. I was blissfully happy without them. There. I said it. I was wonderfully content in my mountain resort world where I had uninterrupted time with my husband and completely paid no attention to the time, position of the sun in the sky, whether I was hungry or not, and absolutely reveled in self-absorption. It was addictive. I read. I hiked. I swam. I sunbathed. I read. I swam. I took a dip. Repeat. I stared into oblivion on the porch when I paused from my reading.
Even as I type this, I've got that damn obnoxious editor on my shoulder whispering what I should and shouldn't type out. But if I want other mothers to know they're not alone, then I have to put it out there and trust no one is going to judge me and shake their head that I'm some lost woman.
We returned to our children and I was thrilled to see them. As were they. They were jubilant. So overcome that all three were in a wrestling pile on the living room floor. And quickly I was back in the middle of my real life. A life I adore. A life I wouldn't trade for anything. A life that has no price. A life that is filled with sacrifice. And I was not prepared Tuesday night that I had a revelation of sorts in Colorado that would unfold over the next few days.
I really enjoyed five days of no responsibilities. Really, really, really enjoyed it. What struck me Wednesday morning as I got back into the routine (whatever that is since it's summer and the kids had VBS) was that David and I spend so much time truly alone in Colorado, that I got a taste again of life before kids. And that was way back at the beginning of our marriage. I started ticking back in my mental calendar that eighteen months into our young marriage, I became pregnant. It struck me that for the last nine years, I have been pregnant or nursing and wrangling small children, and serving their every need. Because that is what a mother does. She tends to every meal, every snack, and the list goes on and on. When I think of the time that David and I have had alone, it is a fraction of our marriage. Colorado made me feel very independent of my children for the first time since having children. They have always been a thought away but this trip, for some reason, I lost track of time and truly was self-absorbed and nearly felt like David and I were a newlywed couple again. We didn't talk about the kids the entire time. We allowed ourselves to be us, 24/7 who we were when we met. Of course, those two crazy young lovers are still in these Mommy and Daddy selves, but the music of our daily life is three cute little messy kids who we adore and would give our lives for. The music of our unique personhood is not the main melody anymore. Our children are the melody. And it's a sweet score to our play. I wouldn't change that. But what wonder to remember that behind the melody is a intricate harmony written long before our children were born, before David and I even met.
I am not listening to the harmony enough. I'm not appreciating the harmony. The harmony is what I must return to because it is what makes me a strong parent. Parenting is the most draining job I've ever done. I've done this job working full-time. I've done this job with no other source of income. And I've done this job and continue to do this job with a work-from-home job. All three scenarios are equally difficult for different reasons. When I worked full time, my melody wasn't my children; it was my affair with my career. So whether a woman has a career, children, or both, when she continues to focus only on that sweet melody that gives her joy and meaning and purpose and forgets her uniqueness, created in the image of God, she can easily get lost in the melody and lose a sense of who she is outside of career or children or both. I propose this overwhelming melody has to be tuned outside sometimes because it causes...for lack of a better word...burnout. Frankly the melody matters and must be the overriding theme because parenting is important and trumps the selfish needs we each long to indulge in. Parenting, at least one that is based on unconditional love and concern for the child, is the most selfless role I have ever claimed. Or perhaps the role claimed me. When I returned from Colorado, I realized that I had let the role of parent and even my part-time business claim me far too often and had not been taking enough breaks over these years to reclaim the harmony in my life, time to remember who I am, apart from my kids, time to remember my relationship with my husband, apart from our children. It struck me that my kids drain me because I allow them to. My identity has too blended in with my children and that distinction is critical to staying sane while raising children.
It is a casual slope into this blending pool, swirling of self, unique individual, and mommyhood. It is inevitable. It happens. The joke is our bodies aren't our own once we're pregnant. And even after baby is born, I know my body continued to be overtaken by my kids when one is hanging onto my leg and another is jumping on my back. That's me. I'm the Mama. Every so often though, to keep from getting lost in that whirlpool, I've gotta come out of it and remember who I am. I had forgotten how fantastic it is to self-indulge. That is what we did before kids. My gracious were we indulgent and lazy. And when kids enter the wonderful dynamic of your marriage, it's all about them, as it should be. But if Mama and Daddy aren't shedding those titles often enough, it's so easy to get lost in that whirlpool and let the children, er, the sweet melody, rule the roost.
I returned with a distinct clarity that my struggle to take on my daily responsibilities again was because I had forgotten how fun it is to be self-indulgent or David-indulgent, whatever you want to call it. And to be the best at our parenting, we needed to indulge more than one week a year. I was able to return to my responsibilities with the kids and distinguish myself from them and remember that they're the kids and I'm the adults. I know these things of course, but this mental shift, a continual return to who is the kid here and who is the adult, is what will keep me from losing myself. Burnt-out Mamas are the result of forgetting their unique harmony they possess apart from the kids. Kids are draining. Period. They bring out the best in me and they absolutely have brought out the worst in me. So it's easy to get lost in that when you're finding yourself in full Dictator-Mode or Governor-Role or Florence Nightingale-Mode. I step outside of myself sometimes and can hear myself and wonder, who is this person I am right now, the one fussing and ordering kids around? Face it--none of us can live up to the Pinterst Mommies out there and the parenting magazine articles that make parenting look like this ethereal experience where Mom and child are smiling over their messy art projects together. Yes, I have those pictures too. But I know between those photos were some not so happy moments. I had a friend once tell me that pictures lie. I totally disagreed with her. But actually, she's not too far from the truth. We forget the insanity between the photos. The photos capture the moment, that's all. The moment. They are great moments, necessary to get through the muck.
When I hear myself in full Mommy-mode, I wonder at myself now, and remind myself this: You are a fun person. Who can laugh. You're a silly woman who likes to dress up and flirt with your husband. You still know how to talk about intellectual things even though Curious George has taken over your critical thinking skills. This crazy lady taking over right now in an effort to wrangle three children to bed, teeth brushed, books read, and rested for the next day is just waiting for her break when the fun girl can be back. The kids will see her one day too. Probably tomorrow. And one day as adults, they'll hopefully see all the fun you are, when you're not trying to teach them all the life skills they need to have to go into the world one day.
I find myself doing literary criticism on Curious George and critiquing the plot and syntax of the Berenstain Bears books. And yes, I actually have done this. I even did an analysis on a children's book by Laura and Jenna Bush. I nearly emailed them my critique. I must read more. I must write more. For me. I must go on dates with my husband. I should take a long bath. I really should drink more white wine. It's what women in their 30s do right? Nectar of the gods for mommies. I love singing as loudly as I can in the car to anything that's on, whether it's worship music, Kelly Clarkson, or Keith Urban. Heck I might even attempt Adele. I must do these things so I can give my children the best of the Mommy they have been given.
